As I mentioned on Friday, I left Waylon overnight for the first time this weekend for a grand total of 36 hours. I was nervous way back in the summer when the plans were first made, but when the time finally came, the whole thing seemed rather undramatic. My only sliver of a worry was my baby’s mental health after 15 months of being attached to my body. I pictured him sullenly walking around the house, tears running down his face, searching for me like an abandoned puppy. A pitiful orphan. My poor Oliver Twist.
Of course that didn’t happen. Now that he sleeps through the night and eats man food, the whole thing was a piece of cake. He spent all day with my Mom and sister and the rest of the time with his #1 pal, Baby Daddy. I like to think he missed me a little bit, but the reports are inconclusive. Apparently he spent a lot of time smiling and eating goldfish.
I was fine too. I felt sick to my stomach for the first ten minutes and then I got over it and had a fabulous weekend away eating gourmet foods and being pampered with things like massages and designer shoes. A big thanks to Auntie Pat for being so generous. She throws this soiree for all the women in Austin’s family every year, and every year she outdoes the last. It’s pretty incredible, but I’ll stop bragging about it.
I will brag about the fact that I only had to pack one bag. ONE BAG and a simple purse; not a mom purse, not an overstuffed backpack full of pretzels and butt-wipes, not a diaper bag. A teeny, tiny, college girl purse. It was amazing.
I would show you pictures, but I intentionally abandoned my phone and camera to focus on conversation, lemon curd, and glasses of red wine. Mostly I relished in the small details; eating meals without interruption, sleeping without the buzz of the monitor, and walking around hands free. On Saturday afternoon we took a beautiful fall walk before dinner. I was covered in massage oils and feeling high on life. No baby, no stroller, no worries. I thought: is this what my life was like before baby? I don’t remember feeling so blissful.
Reuniting with my firstborn was, of course, wonderful. He saw me and it was all over. Daddy daycare and unlimited cookies are no match for the milk train. Even though I said I hoped the time apart would wean him, I secretly wanted him to nurse. I guess I’m not ready either. (I pumped while we were apart to ensure I didn’t lose my milk supply. Waylon won’t take it from a bottle or cup, so I donated it to a newly adopted baby which makes me feel very warm inside).
This weekend marks a milestone in parenthood, one that I’m grateful for. As a friend so bluntly put it, “at some point you have to cut the cord and get a margarita.” True story.
What about you? When did you first leave your baby overnight?